The Doctor and the Naughty Girl (17 page)

“You’re losing it, tough guy. I’ve seen
girls
bench more than that.” She winked at him. “Hard to attract any female attention when you’re throwing around pathetic weight like that.”

Dane wiped his chin with his towel. “Do you ever get weirded out by the fact we’re together so often people think we’re a couple?”

“Do you ever get weirded out by the fact that I use my hunky boss like a honeypot to lure attractive girls?”

He laughed. “Umm, I’m not sure why—you’re only attracting straight chicks.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that, genius. Get off that bench. It’s my turn.” Cathie looked up at him as he took off some of the plates, reducing the weight. “Show me a hundred submissive women who profess to being exclusively straight, and I’ll show you ninety-nine liars.”

“Not lacking in self-confidence, this one.”

She grinned. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. Now spot me.”

As Cathie whipped through her set of bench presses, he thought of Amity. It was Sunday, and he wondered what she was doing right at that moment, if she was even thinking about what had happened, thinking about him.

Dane wasn’t sure what came next. Maybe she’d come to her senses and realize it probably wasn’t the best idea to be fucking her boss. It might even be easier that way.

“Hey, wake up!” Cathie slapped him on the chest. “You ready for cardio?”

She stood with her hands on her hips, breathing hard, her breasts heaving in a way Dane attempted—and usually failed—not to notice.

“Aww, isn’t he cute? Trying not to check out the girls.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to an exaggerated murmur. “I’ll pull the top down a little if you want. Give you a better view.”

Dane rolled his eyes. “Puh-lease.”

Cathie laughed, shoving his shoulder. “We need to get you laid, doc. Staring at the tits on the local lesbos puts you firmly in Desperate-ville.”

“Getting laid’s no longer an issue,” he said over his shoulder as they made their way up the steps toward the cardio area on the second floor.

“You…
her?
” Cathie’s voice sobered. “You mean you actually fucked her?”

“This is a surprise to you?”

They found two treadmills next to each other, the hum of their motors cranking up as they began to walk.

“I wasn’t sure. Figured you might just be getting your rocks off on being Mr. Disciplinarian with her.”

He watched her gaze subtly sweep the cardio area. At least two women, one of them a quite attractive older blonde, her legs pumping away on an elliptical machine, were looking their way. He shook his head.

“What’s wrong with being the disciplinarian?”

“Oh, nothing at all.” Cathie’s smile was the cat who got the cream. “Believe me, I get off on it too, given the right girl.”

“And what kind would that be?”

Cathie sped up her treadmill, moving smoothly into a loping, breast-bouncing jog.

“The kind who don’t know how deep it goes. The ones who’re afraid—and curious. Sound like anyone you might know?”

* * *

She couldn’t stop watching him. Amity knew she had to keep it together, be professional, be an adult, but with every passing hour it was getting harder and harder.

Let’s hope his cock is too.

Every time he’d come up to the lobby—which had seemed more often than usual—she’d watch him, remembering. His touch, the rumble of his voice, the feel of his cock stretching her tissues, how his body felt next to hers as he held her deep into the night. It hardly seemed real anymore, as if it were a vivid dream she feared would fade by the minute.

But it hadn’t been. The bruises across the lower curves of her ass she still stared dreamily at in the mirror each morning attested to that. It had happened, and it was all she could think about.

Yet as the day wore on, she grew more and more frustrated. He hadn’t said one word to her other than what he’d needed to for the job. He hadn’t even so much as looked her way! Was he just someone who used women? A conquest for him to be discarded when the next pretty thing caught his eye?

Calm down, Amity. I don’t think the man would risk his entire livelihood for just a piece of strange.

“Fuck this,” she muttered under her breath, pulling her phone out of her coat pocket.

She thumbed through her text messages—several from Kaitlyn she still needed to answer—and found his text from the day she worked at his home office. She typed in a text, her thumb hovering over the send button just a moment, the tiny voice at the back of her mind telling her she was being stupid. Then she pressed send, her frustration winning out.

Do you plan to even acknowledge what happened Friday?

Amity waited for what seemed like several minutes, her pulse pounding harder and harder. Was he really not even going to respond?

“I can’t believe this,” she said, her nails clicking louder against the screen as she sent another text.

Well?? WTF, Dane!

She glared at the screen as if she could will a response to appear. But nothing came.

The front door opened, and Mrs. Fletcher, her long blond hair wrapped in a striking red scarf, walked in. Amity shot one last frustrated, futile look at her phone before she shoved it back into her purse, and plastered on an Oscar-worthy smile for the woman taking one of the lobby seats.

Amity was about to dial Cathie’s extension to let her know Mrs. Fletcher was in, when the door to Exam opened, Dane’s long arm swinging it wide. He wore a crisp white shirt that set off the tanned skin of his neck, the cut jaw and strong chin, and the dark shock of his hair.

“Come on back, Mrs. Fletcher. Ultrasound shouldn’t take us too long today.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Mrs. Fletcher, quite a pretty woman, Amity noticed with an insane flash of possessiveness, gave Dane a warm smile as she slipped by him and down the hall.

Before he followed, Dane locked his gaze with hers, his mouth a hard straight line.

Oh, shit. He read it.

Amity swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly bone dry.

He stared at her for a few seconds more, his hazel eyes now dark, fire smoldering in his gaze. Then his lips quirked into a half smile, and he walked back to exam.

It took fifteen minutes before her hands stopped shaking, her entire body tense. He’d read it, that was clear, but his reaction confused her. Was he pleased she sent it? Or angry and enjoying letting her stew and worry?

Damn him.

But she didn’t see him for the rest of the shift. A morose mood was descending over her as she turned the lock on the front door, watching through the big plate-glass windows a moment as Cathie walked back toward the parking garage, the nurse clutching her white coat tight around her.

Dane still hadn’t left, which meant…

She heard the muffled tone of an incoming text. She strode around the desk as fast as her heels would let her—another high-heel day, hoping someone,
anyone,
might notice—then plucked the phone from her purse.

It was him.

Make sure the front door is locked, then walk back to Exam One.

Her heart pounded all the way up into her throat as she made her way down the hall and through the exam area, stopping and looking around for Dane. She walked down the line of exam rooms, the numeral 1 looming larger and larger as she drew near. She opened the door to find Dane leaning against the little counter, his arms crossed over his chest. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, the muscles of his forearms bulging. He gave her a slight nod, and she closed the door.

“Come here,” he said.

“Dane, I think—”

“I said, come
here.
” He pointed at the floor. “Right here in front of me.”

She complied, the clack of her heels at each step seeming almost deafening in the small tiled room.

“Put your hands behind your back. Chin up.” He reached out and swatted her breast. “Tits out.”

Amity did it, lifting her chin, meeting his gaze. Her nipples tightened to hard points, her belly stirring as his hard gaze fixed upon her, pinning her in place.

“We’ve talked about how you’re to speak to me—and to Cathie—but apparently, we need to talk about how you’re to communicate in written form too. Do you agree?”

“You haven’t talked to me all day, Dane.” She quailed at the way the muscles at the corner of his jaw bunched. “What was I supposed to—”

“Quiet.” He pushed his hips away from the counter, stepping close, looming over her in that way that made her want to both flee and clutch her body tight to his. His palm lifted her breast, gently squeezing, a warning. His thumb coursed over the hard, tingling point of her nipple, making her breath catch. “Did it occur to you that we need to keep what we’re doing confidential?”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he gave her a sharp shake of his head. She bit down the words.

Smiling then, he took her nipple between his fingers. “I
do
like that you couldn’t get me out of your head though.” He took her other breast in hand, kneading both of them, pleasure arrowing straight to her clit, her pussy tightening. “That’s how I want my girl. I want her always thinking about me. Have you been?”

Her nipples throbbed now as he tweaked both of them, threatening to draw a humiliating moan from her.

“I asked you a question, Amity. Have you thought of me all day long?”

“Yes… sir.”

“Good.” His voice dropped an octave, the timbre of it rattling in her chest. “That’s very good. I’m pleased to hear that.”

She gave him an uncertain smile, the relief of tension in her body almost making her sigh.

“But we still need to address the inappropriate text you sent me, don’t we?”

Her heart sank. “Yes, sir.”

Dane caressed her cheek. “I want you to bend over the exam table.”

“Sir, I don’t… “

He just looked down upon her, almost serene, waiting. Expecting.

Grimacing, she dropped her eyes and walked to the table, leaning over on her hands, the white paper crinkling loudly.

“Feet together,” he said behind her.

She obeyed, and he pulled her skirt up, bunching it at the small of her back, cool air swirling over her nearly naked bottom.

“Pretty thong. Slutty, like those heels.”

Her face flamed, and she dropped her head.

The edge of his finger stroked her buttock. “Still some bruising here. That paddle does good work. Are you still sore?”

What was the right answer? Would he want to spank her again if she said no? Would she be disappointed if a yes made him decide
not
to spank her?

“No, sir.”

“Hmm.” His hand lifted each cheek in turn, squeezing gently, as if to assess her flesh. “Best to let this heal all the way.”

She sagged in relief, trying not to picture how ridiculous she must look, bent over the table, her bare ass on display. Her head shot up as she heard the sound of his belt buckle.

“What are you—?”

“Keep that lip zipped, Amity.” The sound of the belt being drawn through the loops of his slacks made her mouth go dry, her bottom squeezing tight. “You need a reminder of what happens when you’re disrespectful. Maybe next time you’ll pick your words more carefully, hmm?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I just—” she sighed, “—I wanted to talk to you.”

“You can talk to me without the attitude, can’t you?”

She winced. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m your employer, but I’m much more than that now, aren’t I? What do you think I expect from you? What do you think I deserve?”

“Respect, sir.”

“That’s right. So I’m going to give you something to remind you about being respectful.”

Lying in her bed at night, fantasizing, wasn’t quite like this. Here, bent over before him, she was as frightened of the pain as she was drawn to it, but it was that fear
itself
that seemed to increase her arousal still further. It made no sense.

Dane crouched down behind her, his hands stroking her buttocks. Fingers hooked in the string of her thong, drawing it down, the gusset sticking to her pussy for one humiliating moment before falling away, leaving the tiny scrap of lace to stretch between her unsteady knees. His pleased murmur confirmed he’d seen the sticky evidence of her arousal, Amity’s face burning even more.

Why is he taking down my thong if he’s not going to spank me?

Of course, she knew the answer, even before Dane’s fingers eased open the lips of her pussy.

“You’re wet, girl. Were you looking forward to this?”

“No… sir.”

“Your cunt says something different though.” His palm closed over her sex, squeezing it gently, rubbing slowly up and down, the friction on her clit making her want to push against him. “God, so hot, Amity.”

His hands moved down her legs, caressing her thighs, making gooseflesh stand out as the wetness from his palm cooled on her skin.

“I love your legs. So long. These thighs of yours—god
damn
.” He squeezed them, kneading the trembling muscles, his palm giving them a couple of gentle smacks, the ripple across her soft flesh making her whimper. She liked her legs, but she still thought her thighs were a little too heavy.

Maybe if you spent more time in the gym, instead of a bar, they wouldn’t be?

She felt Dane stand, his palm resting on her tailbone. Leather stroked against the backs of her thighs, and she stiffened.

“Oh, God, please not there!”

The first stroke fell heavy, the snap loud in the small room, the burst of heat more than she’d ever expected. Another stroke fell and she cried out, the belt lashing low, just above her knees.

“Shh, stay quiet, Amity. Be good.”

A third strike lashed across the middle of her thighs, and she bolted upright, reaching back to try to rub the burn away, the hurt clawing into the vulnerable flesh. The pain was even worse than a spanking on her ass!